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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368600">hot tubs are bad fer ya?!</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxkillskat/pseuds/foxkillskat'>foxkillskat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Bokuaka - Freeform, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hot Tub, Kissing, M/M, MSBY Black Jackals - Freeform, Mentions of Sex, Mild Language, Past Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Post-Time Skip, SakuAtsu, Touching, Violent Thoughts, nothing graphic, this ones fer fun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:14:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,932</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxkillskat/pseuds/foxkillskat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A team bonding trip minus most of the team, plus the one and only Akaashi Keiji.  Toss in a disgustingly dirty hike, two extremely hot roasted marshmallows, and more time than should ever be safely spent in a hot tub and what do ya get?  </p>
<p>A one-way ticket to Sakusa Kiyoomi’s personal hell, complete with all the Miya Atsumu he could never want.</p>
<p>This is going to be a long weekend.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>378</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>well look who it is!! foxkillskat here to provide fer all yer hot tub Omi-kun needs  </p>
<p>heres the stats:<br/>likelihood of hot tub Omi-kun in canon??<br/>absolutely none<br/>amount of space hot tub Omi-kun occupies in my head??<br/>100% at all times</p>
<p>please take some of this before the hot tub fries my brain 🙇<br/>and someone, fer the love of god, please draw Omi-kun in a got dang hot tub</p>
<p>p.s. "chapter 3" is a bonus BokuAka scene (do with it what you will 😉)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>This is supposed to be a team bonding trip — emphasis on team.  So could someone, anyone, please tell Kiyoomi what he’s doing in the backseat of Akaashi’s car, crammed between the door and Miya Atsumu’s overly large duffel bag, headed god-knows-where up in the mountains to some cabin for an entire weekend? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>If that isn’t bad enough, Miya and Bokuto won’t shut up about hot tubbing and hiking and roasting marshmallows over an open fire, all the fun cabin activities that make Kiyoomi’s skin itch.  Akaashi’s not so bad; he’s quieter than the other two, and he addresses Kiyoomi with a neat and respectful, “Sakusa-san.”  He even cleaned his car from top to bottom in preparation, which Bokuto has brought up a total of three times in bragging thus far.  All of this only serves to make Kiyoomi more uncomfortable.  Both he and Miya are technically third wheeling on a romantic weekend getaway.  Disgusting — and not in the manner Miya uses the word.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi closes his eyes as if losing the visual will quiet the noise.  It doesn’t.  If only he jumped ship when Inunaki and Barnes came down with the flu.  Heck, he should have said no from the start like Meian and Tomas, made up some excuse about a family event; as if his family ever held events.  His most recent regret, however, was not asking Akaashi to turn the car around when Hinata called with his excuse, something about an impromptu trip to Brazil.  Kiyoomi could care less.  Under normal circumstances, Hinata’s absence might be appreciated — he makes more noise than the rest of them combined.  But without him, there’s no one to distract Miya when Bokuto turns his attention on Akaashi.  No one except for Kiyoomi, that is.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya nudges his duffle until it threatens to fall in Kiyoomi’s lap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>What.  Are.  You.  Doing.</em>  Kiyoomi says with his glare.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya’s smile twists into a smirk without hesitation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They can talk like this without saying a word, all narrowed eyes and furrowed brows and twisted lips; they’ve known each other long enough.  Even so, Miya prefers to open his big mouth for maximum attention.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You stressed, Omi-kun?”  He tilts his head like a dumb puppy.  “Looks like ya need a good soak in the hot tub.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The cutesy expression is a poor match for his suggestive tone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not going anywhere near that cesspool,” Kiyoomi states definitively.  So what if he packed his swim shorts in the bottom of his suitcase between his hiking socks and his fire-resistant leggings?  Being prepared for all situations doesn’t mean he plans to partake in any of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya sticks out his bottom lip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, we requested the full cleaning to be done before we arrive.”  Akaashi meets his eyes briefly in the rearview mirror.  “I hope it’s to your liking.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi doesn’t get a word in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Agaaaaasheeeeee!  You think of everything,” Bokuto howls, grin blinding.  “Did I tell you that I love you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Only every minute of this drive,” Miya mutters to his backseat audience.  “We gotta find a way to ditch these lovebirds.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sure they would appreciate that,” Kiyoomi whispers back.  “But there’s no we.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There could be.”  Miya has the audacity to wink at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The <em>fuck you</em> is ready to leave his mouth when Akaashi takes a sharp turn down a forest road and Miya’s bag smacks Kiyoomi right in the face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The weekend is off to a great start.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After dinner, Kiyoomi finds himself out on the back deck in the freezing night air, dressed in nothing but a towel and swim shorts.  He shifts from one foot to the other while he surveys the hot tub situation.  The water is clear enough and the steam rising from it has a calming chlorine scent.  Emboldened, he swipes a finger along the inner wall beneath the surface.  Not slimy whatsoever.  Kiyoomi glances over his shoulder at the cabin as he breaks his rule, like someone will reprimand him for it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No one does.  Akaashi passes by the kitchen window with an empty wine bottle — thanks to Miya — but he doesn’t look out.  As always, his eyes are glued to Bokuto.  Throughout the whole dinner and every moment surrounding it, Akaashi and Bokuto never stopped looking at each other.  It should have made everyone uncomfortable, but, for some reason, when stupid, loud Bokuto wrapped his arm around Akaashi’s waist and gently thumbed at his hip, even Kiyoomi’s lips threatened a smile.  Their happiness is like some contagious virus.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi isn’t going to let himself catch it.  He isn’t like Miya, who sits in there across from them, downing glass after glass of expensive red wine, ignorant to his impending infection.  Cracking jokes, joining in, laughing along.  Maybe he’s already caught it; maybe he’s had it this whole time.  Either way, Kiyoomi plans to steer clear, which is proving difficult since, as usual, he can’t seem to escape Miya.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s always like this: away games, nights out, training activities requiring a partner, and now, vacation.  Miya and Kiyoomi are lumped together, thanks to their equally trying personalities.  In some ways, though, Miya is more like the other two than he is Kiyoomi.  Kiyoomi sinks down in the steaming water, contemplating this.  Akaashi, with his calm and attentive kindness, and Bokuto, the literal dictionary definition of a himbo, are people who are easy to love.  Miya, on the other hand, is a difficult brat.  And yet, people love him anyway for how openly he bares himself, how easily he gives himself away to anyone who gives him attention.  Kiyoomi frowns at the tendrils of steam dancing in the frigid air, taunting him with their carefree nature.  He supposes this is where he falls short.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sakusa Kiyoomi is not, and has never been, someone easily loved.  He knows this in the way he spent his childhood alone, with parents and older siblings who never could make the time for him, how even Komori needed breaks from him and his quirks.  He knows this is his fault, too, how he lashes out whenever someone gets a smidgen too close.  It makes sense that anyone who shows the slightest interest in loving him disappears after trying and failing to break into his personal bubble. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi is not built like Akaashi or Bokuto, or even Miya.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This fact doesn’t usually bother him — he rarely even thinks about it.  It’s just the way things are.  But Kiyoomi can’t ignore the visible proof of his sigh, a little puff of vapor dissipating slowly in the chilly air.  This is going to be a long weekend.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The door slams shut behind him in agreeance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hot tub, Omi-kun!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi closes his eyes and doesn’t turn around.  Maybe if he ignores Miya, he’ll go away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Omi-Omi,” the voice singsongs louder.  “Sittin’ in the hot tub.  Never thought I’d see the day.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No such luck — he can smell the wine on Miya from here.  Kiyoomi peels open one eye and, oh, that’s because Miya is right in his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you want?”  He narrows his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mind if I join ya?”  Miya is already pulling his shirt over his head before Kiyoomi can tell him no.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know why you bothered to ask.”  Kiyoomi frowns as Miya sinks into the water and onto the bench opposite him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For having a six-person capacity, the hot tub feels incredibly small.  Miya’s feet are less than a meter away from his own and he tries not to think about how they’re basically sharing a bath.  He wrinkles his nose anyway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Aw, don’t be like that.”  Miya laughs drunkenly and starts up the jets.  “I showered off ‘n everything before comin’ out here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His hair is dark and damp, fringe pushed back off his forehead to highlight his glossy eyes and flushed cheeks.  The shower apparently did nothing to sober him up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Man, this feels amazing,” Miya moans.  “I gotta get one of these.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I sincerely hope you own a bathtub,” Kiyoomi says dryly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya laughs like Kiyoomi told a joke.  “A hot tub ain’t the same thing, Omi-kun.  Bathtubs are fer gettin’ clean and shit.  Hot tubs are fer relaxin’.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And other things.”  He winks at Kiyoomi and Kiyoomi’s lips curl with disgust all on their own; he’s trained them well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m just thinkin’ it’s good we got out here before the lovebirds.”  Miya wags his brows.  “We did pretty good ditchin’ them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As I said before, there is no we.”  Kiyoomi pulls his limbs in closer, creating as much space between them as he can manage.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Omi-Omi.”  Miya shakes his head like he’s reprimanding a child.  “Ya act like yer forced to be here.  Ya ever thought maybe you should try to enjoy this?  Let loose a little.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya’s idea of letting loose involves a nasty hangover.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m here, aren’t I?” he reasons.  “I’m sitting in this cesspool with you when I could be at home in my own clean bathtub.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Isn’t that enough?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya gives him a reserved smile, a weird deviation from his crafty smirks and his childish grins.  Paired with his alcohol-flushed cheeks, it’s wrong.  Entirely wrong.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do ya think it’s gonna snow?”  Miya tilts his head back over the edge of the hot tub, breath puffing little clouds into the black sky.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi looks up, too, as if he can see anything in the abyss.  “I don’t know.  I’m not a weather forecaster.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya doesn’t bite.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I hope so,” Kiyoomi adds with less edge, and he means it.  Snow is clean and cold and pure when it kisses his skin and, though he’d never admit it, he always sticks out his tongue to catch a few flakes.  He has yet to die from doing so.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi gives up on finding anything in the black and, instead, finds Miya’s eyes on him, curious and intrusive, shuffling through the layers of his shell until they leave him exposed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What are you looking at?” Kiyoomi asks, and it doesn’t come out as harsh as he wanted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nothin’.”  Miya’s back to his smirking.  “You don’t gotta be so prickly, Omi-kun.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi refuses to dignify this with a response.  They sit in silence for a bit and let the gentle hum of the hot tub jets fill the spaces between.  Kiyoomi’s eyes have grown heavy and he’s approaching a weird state of zen by the time the bubbles come to a stop.  The peace isn’t enough for Miya, who decides it time to open his big mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whaddya think they’re doin’?”  He nods his head toward the cabin, one eyebrow tilted just so.  “Been awful quiet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi blinks slowly, but unfortunately Miya was still waiting for an answer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fornicating, I presume.”  He shrugs.  “It’s really none of our business.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya huffs a laugh, pauses, and shakes his head.  “Geez, Omi-Omi.  Could ya sound any more like a virgin?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What.”  Kiyoomi deadpans.  He can’t believe Miya is baiting him like this, like they’re fifteen-year-olds talking trash in the locker room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya throws his arms over the side of the hot tub and gives him a glinting grin.  “You heard me.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi should tell him to grow up, to fuck off, to shut his mouth, but none of the words make it past his throat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t know me,” is all that comes out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who?” Miya asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who?”  Kiyoomi isn’t following.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who’d ya fuck?”  Miya raises a brow.  “And if you try ‘n tell me it’s none of my business, I’ll know yer a liar for sure.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi’s brows pinch together.  He doesn’t know why he should care what Miya thinks or why Miya thinks he should care.  It’s a well-known fact Miya is the biggest liar out of everyone.  Still, he won’t give this up — Kiyoomi knows that much.  Miya is nothing if not persistent.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wakatoshi-kun,” Kiyoomi snaps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya loses his footing and nearly slips off the little bench, sending a splash of water his way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi raises his hands in a shield.  “Watch it!  You’re getting my hair wet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You fucked Ushijima?  Like, the Ushijima?”  Miya hurls question after question.  “Wait, yer gay?  Goddamnit, is everyone gay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi huffs and wipes the chlorinated droplets off his cheek with the side of his wrist.  “You don’t have to announce it to the whole world.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s a good thing the only other people around for miles are a little preoccupied.  Kiyoomi doesn’t have secrets, per se, but he values his privacy more than most.  He doesn’t desire to be known, to be on display for all to feel entitled to gawk and touch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“God, I can’t imagine what that was like — he’s so stiff.”  Miya recovers and laughs a curious laugh, stunted and high-pitched.  “And how come you always look so grossed out when I call Shouyo-kun hot?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi can sense a headache coming on.  “An opinion for you doesn’t constitute fact for others.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, now!  I’ll defend that <em>fact</em> with my life ever since—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If Kiyoomi has to hear about the time Miya caught Hinata and Kageyama mid-make-out in a literal storage closet one more time he’ll drown himself right here.  Are they even aware no one cleans those?  Just thinking about the amount of dirt and grime in there makes him woozy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wakatoshi-kun has no flaws.”  Kiyoomi shuts Miya right up with one simple declaration.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But, like all easy things in life, it doesn’t last.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What are ya, in love with him?” Miya asks in a pinched tone, like he finds the entire concept of Kiyoomi being in love deeply disturbing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No.”  Kiyoomi glares at him.  “We weren’t dating, if that’s what you mean.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dating wasn’t even a consideration in the few times they met up.  It went unsaid, but Kiyoomi was filler for Wakatoshi and they both knew it.  Kiyoomi didn’t care.  Who better to gain experience with than someone he respected, someone who respected him enough to follow all his rules and never even try a kiss?  The situation was ideal, and when the encounters came to an end, Wakatoshi sent him a handwritten thank you letter.  Kiyoomi found that rather amusing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Across from him, Miya sinks lower in the water.  Then, without warning, he stretches his legs out until his feet are resting on the bench beside Kiyoomi.  Kiyoomi would shift away if he could, but his other side is already too close to the dubiously clean wall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ya think you know someone.”  Miya says to the water surface, breath making tiny ripples which spread and spread until they reach Kiyoomi.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I told you.”  Kiyoomi waits for them to dissipate entirely.  “You don’t know me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t let me.”  Miya frowns and, for once, his upset appears genuine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi can’t be sure.  He’s too disturbed by the current Miya’s feet are kicking up beside his legs.  It’s uncomfortable.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Even right now yer movin’ away from me like I got the plague or somethin’.”  Miya’s whine is back full force.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yer afraid of me,” he accuses Kiyoomi suddenly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am not.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, ya are.”  Miya’s eyes flash, and then out of nowhere they’re peering up through heavy lashes, giving him a dangerous look.  “Yer afraid I’m gonna touch you and yer afraid yer gonna like it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi isn’t sure he’s hearing right. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can assure you—” Miya continues solemnly, “however <em>flawless</em> Ushijima was, I’m a million times better.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi knows he isn’t sitting here, jaw slack at Miya’s bold statement.  He knows he’s already left the hot tub, left Miya out in the cold.  Except he is and he hasn’t, and Miya won’t let up.  He’s locked on, eyes heavy-lidded and dark as he licks his bottom lip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Once you have me, you’ll forget his name,” Miya threatens — no, promises.  “You’ll forget his entire existence.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That’s enough. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi’s fingers find Miya’s ankle and give a good, hard yank, sending Miya’s head beneath the surface with an impressive splash.  He doesn’t drown (unfortunately), and as quickly as he went under, he claws his way out sporting a stupidly large grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wow, Omi-kun!”  He laughs, unfazed by the water running down his face.  “Didn’t mean to getchya all worked up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Will you shut up?”  Kiyoomi rises.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya shakes his head like a wet dog, sending a spray his direction.  “Aw, don’t leave.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s too late for that.  Kiyoomi is out of the water and toweling off in record speed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Omiiiiiiiii.”  Miya swims to his side of the hot tub and rests his chin over the edge, making his best puppy eyes, as if Kiyoomi could possibly believe him so innocent.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was just playin’ with ya.  Don’t get all mad.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, well, I’m not a toy.”  Kiyoomi barks.  He turns on his heel and leaves Miya out in the cold where he belongs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This is already a long weekend.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi doesn’t think about what Miya said.  He doesn’t think about it at all.  In fact, he expunges it from his brain, deep cleaning it away with some extra strength mental bleach.  And even though he does this, he still has some weird dream where he’s underwater and Miya is looking up at him through those thick lashes, bubbles leaving his mouth as he speaks.  The words are trapped there, released upon hitting the surface that Kiyoomi can’t seem to reach.  He’s struggling, he’s crying out, he’s drowning in the black.  And then it’s five in the morning and he’s wide awake, gasping for everything he can’t live without.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The initial step out into the morning air is like falling face-first into an ice bath.  Kiyoomi’s too busy blinking the metaphorical cold water from eyes to notice he’s not alone on the front porch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh.”  Akaashi looks up from the wooden bench, steam from his mug clouding his glasses.  He takes them off and wipes them on the edge of his thick sweater.  “Good morning, Sakusa-san.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good morning.”  Kiyoomi pauses.  “Sorry to interrupt.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re welcome to join me.”  Akaashi gestures to the empty rocking chair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi nods.  He sprays down the chair with a little bottle of sanitizer, waiting for the alcohol to evaporate from the wood.  Akaashi watches over the top of his mug, glasses fogging once more, but he says nothing until Kiyoomi is seated.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you an early riser as well?” he asks, voice steady.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi nods and sucks in a deep inhale of crisp mountain air.  “Sleeping in is bad for your health.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And so is losing sleep to disturbing dreams.  The sun hasn’t even risen yet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi huffs a small laugh that comes out as a puff of vapor.  “Tell that to Bokuto-san.  Trying to wake him is only second worst to coaxing him to bed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi has no doubt Akaashi is an expert at both.  Not that would never say such a thing out loud; that’s more up Miya’s alley.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s a reason he rooms with Hinata on trips,” Kiyoomi comments instead.  “I don’t think either of them have ever gone to sleep at a reasonable hour.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They were the same way at training camps back in high school, no matter how exhausted they were.”  Akaashi shakes his head fondly.  “Some things never change.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s weird to think they’ve all known each other so long and yet not known each other — or maybe it’s just Kiyoomi who’s the outsider.  Come to think of it, this is the first time he’s had a one-on-one conversation with Akaashi, despite existing in the same circles for years.  Both high school Kiyoomi and college Kiyoomi would have never even considered going on a voluntary trip with teammates — far too many unknowns.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Some things do,” Kiyoomi thinks out loud, unsure about the why.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi hums and takes a thoughtful sip from his mug.  He looks down into the dark liquid, mouth open, ready to speak when the sound of the front door interrupts.  Out comes a bed-headed Miya in sleep shorts and a thin t-shirt, bare-kneed and half-asleep to the icy chill. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’re you two doin’ up so early?” he asks after a larger-than-life yawn.  “We’re supposed to be on vacation.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Carpe diem,” Akaashi says without any enthusiasm whatsoever. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya throws his arms up behind his head for a deep stretch.  His shirt goes up too, baring his toned stomach to the cold.  This does the trick.  He’s scarcely into the stretch when the icy air strikes, wracking him through with a giant shiver.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuckin’ hell, it’s freezin’ out here!” he yelps and rubs frantically at his bare arms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Put on some damn clothes,” Kiyoomi reprimands.  “If you get sick, you’ll ruin the trip for everyone, and I’m not taking care of you again.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not like last month when Miya thought it wise to go running in the rain, managing to catch a cold so bad it kept him from practice for a whole week.  Kiyoomi had never cooked so much soup in his life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, alright, I’m goin’.”  Miya turns back for the door.  “Yer so grumpy in the mornin’, Omi-kun.  You should really consider sleepin’ in.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi bites the blame on his tongue until Miya’s gone.  And when he finally huffs the leftover irritation from his lungs, he finds Akaashi doing little to hold back an amused smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?”  Kiyoomi crosses his arms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi purses his lips.  “I was thinking that Miya has certainly changed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How so?” Kiyoomi asks, curious for no good reason.  “Besides becoming more irritating by the day, that is.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I remember when he first joined the team.”  Akaashi adjusts his glasses and sets his mug down on the arm of the bench.  “He struggled quite a bit to mesh with the others — he had a sort of don’t-care attitude when it came to his relationships.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Unsurprising.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t think it helped that he was suddenly without his brother.”  Akaashi taps his fingers on the bench.  “Alone, like that, for the first time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi doesn’t understand.  Miya talks to his brother constantly — they’re always on the phone whenever Kiyoomi’s forced to share a hotel room with him.  Half the time they don’t even talk about anything.  The persistent static of their speaker calls has become the default background noise to Kiyoomi’s hotel room sanitization process.  Miya is never truly alone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s much more amenable now.”  Akaashi pulls Kiyoomi back in.  “I wasn’t too surprised when he asked for my help to plan this trip.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now, this is news.  “I thought this was Bokuto’s idea.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi gives him another one of his amused looks, as if to say, “Bokuto?  Have an idea?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I suppose it was also his plan to bother me all weekend.”  Kiyoomi rocks back and forth in the chair out of spite.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, he is quite fond of you,” Akaashi says like it’s no big deal.  A known fact.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi wants to laugh.  Then he wants to ask what exactly Akaashi means.  Then, before he even hears the answer, he wants to deny it.  He settles on pretending he had a sudden moment of deafness.  The ideal choice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya decides this is the perfect moment to pop back out, bed head hidden beneath the fluffy hood of a bright, mustard yellow puffer coat.  It’s ridiculous and stupid and overly endearing, and under it all he’s still wearing fucking shorts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are we goin’ hikin’ or what?” Miya asks with a big grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi can’t handle him.  “What.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By hiking, Miya apparently meant climbing a literal mountain and, out of all of them, he’s the only one struggling.  He didn’t even bring hiking boots.  Kiyoomi doesn’t know why he expected anything different.  For being such a perfectionist when it comes to volleyball, Miya is always forgetting things and making his daily life harder for himself.  At least once a month, Kiyoomi finds Miya’s phone left behind on the locker room bench, and he has to drive the extra five minutes out of his way to deliver it.  At some point, he should start charging for his services.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re in poor shape for a professional athlete.”  Kiyoomi pauses to wait for Miya for the fifth time that morning — not that he’s keeping count.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m in great shape,” Miya argues, hands on his knees and chest heaving.  “You try mountain climbin’ when yer hungover as shit.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Might I remind you this was your idea?  Also, I told you not to drink so much.  The recommended serving of red wine is one glass, not ten.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya just groans. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi looks back up the trail, if it could be called that.  The whole thing is a fine line cut through overgrown brush.  Bokuto, chock full of boundless energy, and Akaashi, able to feed off it like some Bokuto-energy vampire, are already out of sight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi frowns.  “We’re going to get lost out here.”  He’s calling it now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know the way,” Miya insists as he straightens up and wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.  He leaves behind a little smudge of dirt, like a mole above his eyebrow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi doesn’t tell him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Didn’t I ever tell ya?” Miya brags as he starts stomping off through the brush.  “I have an uncanny sense of direction.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He absolutely does not.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi figures this much after another half an hour scrambling up the side of the mountain.  The foliage is thick and he’s grateful he’s covered from head to toe, but it doesn’t stop him from flinching every time a vine catches on his new hiking socks.  They do their job, though, unlike Miya, who stops right in front of him, again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At this rate, it’s like he’s trying to knock Kiyoomi over.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wanna say we need to go that way.”  Miya points to a small break in the bushes up ahead, but he makes no move.  Instead, he rubs at the shaved part of the back of his head.  With each pass of Miya’s fingers over that short hair, the knot in Kiyoomi’s gut grows exponentially.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stop acting like you know where we’re going.”  He grits his teeth.  “We’re lost.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, now.  It’s not even lunch time and the sun is shinin’, ya city boy.”  Miya gives him a snarky smile.  “We’re on an adventure!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi doesn’t understand if this is an insult.  At this point, he doesn’t care.  He’s a little preoccupied trying to remember how to breathe.  Everything in him from his skin down to his bones is tight and tightening still.  His ribs absolutely refuse to expand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’re lost and we’re probably going to freeze to death out here,” he gasps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya pops a hand on his hip and makes a face.  “Don’t freak out on me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am not <em>freaking out</em>.”  Kiyoomi makes finger quotes in the air.  “I don’t know where I am and it’s cold and it’s dirty and there’s probably bugs and—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Omi-kun, it’ll be okay.”  Miya’s hands are reaching out, reaching for him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How?” Kiyoomi yells.  “Please tell me how any of this will be okay!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Trust me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya’s face is right there, right in front of him, and his fingers are burning Kiyoomi’s shoulders through his coat and his shirt and his skin and his muscles, right down to his bones.  The pain is immense.  He barely even registers his lungs expanding, sucking in air again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Get away from me.”  He pushes Miya hard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Big mistake.  Miya stumbles back, sneakers sliding on loose earth.  He’s still holding tight to Kiyoomi’s shoulders and they’re both going down, down, down, a tangle of limbs into the dirt.  At least Miya cushions his fall with a nice grunt — he owes him that much.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What the fuck, Omi,” Miya groans.  “Yer heavy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then let go of me.”  Kiyoomi’s hands are touching dirt and moss and leaves and a number of other things he doesn’t want to think about.  “This is all your fault.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yer the one that pushed me over.”  Miya releases his shoulders with a shove.  “I was tryin’ to help you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t need your help.”  Kiyoomi sits up and starts scrubbing his hands on his pant legs.  “Your help got us lost out here.  Uncanny sense of direction, my ass.  You probably don’t even know what uncanny means, you dumb redneck.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya’s mouth falls open.  “Dumb redneck?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You heard me.”  Kiyoomi inspects his fingers for any speck of dirt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you really makin’ fun of my accent?  If I weren’t the better person, I’d kick yer ass right here, you entitled prick,” Miya threatens.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You, the better person?”  Kiyoomi rifles through his pockets for any sort of hand sanitizer or disinfectant wipe.  “Don’t make me laugh.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Looking for this?”  Miya holds up a small bottle of hand sanitizer — Kiyoomi’s bottle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi stops trying his pockets and glares.  “Did you steal that from me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You left it on the fuckin’ counter and I grabbed it fer ya on my way out the door.  I also got some alcohol wipes in my hip pack, the one you made fun of!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi sits back on his haunches.  He had made fun of Miya’s fanny pack — who wouldn’t?  But that has nothing to do with the fact Miya, one of the messiest and most poorly prepared people he knows, is carrying a multitude of disinfectant supplies.  Well, two to be exact, but that’s two more than usual.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What game are you trying to play?” Kiyoomi asks, cautious.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya frowns at him — really frowns — set off by such a simple question.  “Goddamnit, Sakusa.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi can’t remember the last time he heard his real name from Miya’s mouth.  It’s entirely foreign sounding, belonging to someone else that’s not him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Here.”  Miya thrusts the bottle toward Kiyoomi.  “You wanna wipe too?” he asks, unzipping his hip pack and pulling out a handful of wipes to toss at Kiyoomi.  “Take ‘em all!  I only brought them for you, ya stupid piece of shit.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Well, he is quite fond of you. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What an opportune moment to remember Akaashi’s words: right when Miya’s sporting one of Kiyoomi’s own hateful glares.  This is it.  This is where Miya gives up on him.  Good for him, Kiyoomi supposes.  Miya will be better for it, better for not wasting his time and effort on the impossible.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi picks up each little packet, one by one, brushes them off and shoves them in his pocket.  Then he squirts a generous amount of sanitizer on his hands and rubs them back and forth until they feel vaguely normal again.  If only he could do the same to his insides.  They’re churning, all foul and murky, and they could really use some bleach.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi shakes the thought from his head and stands.  He’s not going down that path again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s not. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Except he is.  His mind pays no heed to his declaration.  It goes crawling back, digging around in the graveyard of all the thoughts he’s buried.  Thoughts like—.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Miya says out of nowhere, yanking him from his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi squints at him through the whiplash.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sorry I got us lost,” he clarifies.  “And I’m sorry I threw those at you and touched ya and whatever else yer mad at me about, okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya rubs the back of his neck.  “I don’t want you to be mad at me.  I want you—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sorry too.”  Kiyoomi cuts him off, unable to look him in the eyes as he says it.  “I shouldn’t have called you a dumb redneck.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya huffs a laugh as he stands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You get real mean when yer stressed out, ya know?”  Miya wipes off the seat of his pants.  “And yer stressed out way too much.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know.”  Kiyoomi doesn’t know what else to say so he tears open one of the wipes and holds it out to Miya as a peace offering.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The small smile Miya gives him when he takes it is acceptance enough.  They’re okay.  Kiyoomi’s okay.  They can keep up this weird, wavering friendship a little longer, stretch it out in silence with scrunched brows and smirking lips. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Of course, being Miya, he has to open his big, dumb mouth and ruin it all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t worry, Omi-kun.  I still like you even if yer a piece of shit.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The words hit Kiyoomi right in the chest.  How is he supposed to take that?  Miya’s not supposed to say things like that, things that sit between them, purposefully unspoken time after time.  What is he supposed to do?  Kiyoomi’s tempted to break the rules too, to reach up and wipe away the little dirt smudge on Miya’s forehead.  His fingers itch for it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya doesn’t give him the chance — he’s already set off for the break in the foliage.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I got a good feelin’ about this,” he throws over his shoulder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi neither agrees nor disagrees. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Surprisingly, about the trail, Miya’s right.  They find it past that opening, and in no time at all, they reach the top of the mountain where the world around them is shrouded in cool mist.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where have you guys been?”  Bokuto squawks, jumping up from his seat on a fallen log where he was cozied up to Akaashi.  “I thought you died!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nearly,” Kiyoomi mutters.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We took a detour.”  Miya grins all fox-like.  “The adventure route.  Right, Omi-Omi?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi says nothing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See, Bokuto-san?”  Akaashi pushes his glasses up on his nose.  “They’re fine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bokuto gives his boyfriend a mega-watt smile.   “You’re always right.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bokuto’s not wrong.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Damn it!” Miya yells as his third marshmallow slides off the metal skewer and lands on the log with a sizzle.  “Why does god hate me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Because you’re a terrible person,” Kiyoomi supplies.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya purses his lips like he’s struggling for a comeback worthy of Aran.  “That was a rhetorical question,” he answers lamely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bokuto snickers and pulls his marshmallow out of the fire, entirely up in flames.  He holds it out to Akaashi, who blows on it until red and orange and yellow turn black.  Kiyoomi’s nose wrinkles in horror as Bokuto opens his mouth wide.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bokuto-san!  Wait!” Akaashi cries.  “You’ll burn your—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ow!”  Bokuto jumps up and waves his hand at his wide-open mouth.  “Hot!  Hot!  Mmph!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—tongue.”  Akaashi appears to be face-palming internally while Bokuto does his little dance around the edge of the fire pit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Get a load ‘a this guy.”  Miya mimics his mouth-fanning with a laugh.  “Wish I was recordin’ this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey!”  Bokuto squawks, tongue out.  “Hurts.”  He shoots Akaashi a pathetic frown.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Come on, Bokuto-san.”  Akaashi leaves his seat and herds Bokuto toward the cabin with both hands on his back.  “I think I saw some sugar cubes in the cupboard.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Out of the two of ‘em, Akaashi got all the patience.”  Miya cackles condescendingly as he loads up his skewer with another marshmallow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re one to talk.”  Kiyoomi moves his camp chair a little closer to the edge of the fire, testing his leggings against the embers.  “Why do you think yours keep falling in?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya sticks out his bottom lip.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re rushing it.”  Like always.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you’re such an expert, why don’t you do it?”  Miya scoots closer and holds the skewer out to him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine.”  Kiyoomi opens up one of the alcohol wipes from earlier, still in his coat pocket, and uses it to take the end from Miya.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not going to eat it, though.”  He wipes the handhold clean.  “That’s your job.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Only if it tastes good.”  Miya sticks his tongue out like a petulant child.  “If you make it all nasty, I’m spittin’ it in the fire.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Watch how it’s done.”  Kiyoomi leans into the heat and angles the end of the skewer at the base of the coals, as far from the popping log as it can get.  He’s never actually done this before, but he’s determined to show Miya up, and a little determination goes a long way.  He takes his time, turning and turning until each side crisps to a perfect golden hue.  When the marshmallow is threatening to lose grip on the metal, he pulls it out, hot and steaming.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya makes grabby hands at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Patience.”  Kiyoomi is tempted to whack him with it.  “Did you learn nothing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya’s hands drop and a disturbing smile spreads on his face.  “Oh, I learned somethin’, alright.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His words feel like a challenge and Kiyoomi squints.  “Then do it properly next time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Something flashes at the back of Miya’s eyes, the same bloodthirsty look he gets when he goes in for a spike serve, targeting an opponent opposite on the court.  Kiyoomi can’t stay long fixed in that gaze.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s probably okay now.”  He points the marshmallow end toward Miya.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya doesn’t take the skewer from him or even try to pull the marshmallow off.  Nope.  Miya tilts his head, sticks out his pink tongue, and starts eating the thing right off the metal, hands free.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi is confused, then disgusted, then vaguely enraptured — not that he would admit it.  Words aren’t making it from his brain to his mouth anyhow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Delicious.” Miya moans, eyes glinting in the firelight.  “Yer missin’ out, Omi-kun.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then he’s back at it, slower, more methodical than before.  His tongue wraps obscenely around the remaining marshmallow, carving off piece by piece with unnerving precision.  When it’s gone, Miya keeps licking and licking, cleaning the metal in smooth, calculated strokes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi is losing his damn mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let me make one for you, ‘Kaashi!”  Bokuto’s yell comes from the cabin deck and Kiyoomi’s hand jerks in surprise, skewer whacking the side of Miya’s face with a satisfying slap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ow!” Miya yelps and rubs at his cheek, spreading sticky marshmallow residue.  “What the hell, Omi?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He would apologize, but a growing part of him decides Miya deserved it.  He wanted a reaction and Kiyoomi delivered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Seems roasting marshmallows might be more dangerous than hiking.”  Akaashi pulls up with a passive expression, eyeing Kiyoomi with his empty skewer and Miya cupping his face like a wounded animal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Campfires are dangerous!”  Bokuto’s right behind him, already loading up his skewer with no less than three marshmallows.  “Did I tell you guys ‘bout the time I caught my pants on fire and ended up saving a baby duck?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi tunes the story out, unable to focus on anything but that sweet, sticky mess on Miya’s cheek.  He pulls an alcohol wipe from his pocket, tears open the packet, and passes it to Miya.  Another peace offering.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Huh?”  Miya’s brows shoot up at Kiyoomi, half-listening to Bokuto ramble on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your cheek.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh.”  Miya scrubs at it with the wipe, managing to miss the mess entirely, too busy nodding his head along to whatever Bokuto is saying.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi eyes the sticky smudge with a sigh.  His fingers are itching again, desperate to clean up the mess that is Miya.  He should know better than to break the rules, but some combination of the campfire’s heat and Miya’s little show has him feeling brave, bold, reckless.  One more alcohol wipe remains.  Kiyoomi tears it open, leans over, and wipes the marshmallow residue right off Miya’s soft cheek. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Everyone, even Bokuto, goes silent.  All three sets of eyes fall on Kiyoomi: Bokuto, mouth open comically wide, Akaashi, eyebrows raised ever so slightly, and Miya, face redder than when Kiyoomi whacked him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?”  Kiyoomi tosses the wipe in the fire with as much nonchalance as he can muster.  His heart is hammering away in his chest and he folds his arms, tucking his fingers in the sides of his coat so no one can see them shaking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did you just—” Bokuto starts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I want to hear what happened after you jumped off the dock, Bokuto-san.”  Akaashi prompts him back to his story.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Huh?  Oh, yeah!”  He forgets his question entirely and jumps back in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi is pretty sure he owes Akaashi his life.  Akaashi knows this too; at least he says so with a tiny twitch of the lips before turning his attention back to Bokuto.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya, however, is a lost cause.  He’s pretending poorly to care about the tale, fingertips ghosting at his cheek and wide eyes stealing glances at Kiyoomi.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?” Kiyoomi hisses at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You, me, hot tub after this?” Miya whispers back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi scrunches his brows and makes a face the epitome of a no.  Of course he’s not going to sit in a previously-used hot tub with someone who can’t even properly clean marshmallow off their face.  What is Miya even thinking?</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>we cant seem to stay outta this got dang hot tub can we... 👀</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>It’s a good thing Kiyoomi didn’t fill up on marshmallows because then he wouldn’t have any room left to eat his words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Here he is, sitting in the hot tub, which has been ‘recently shocked’ according to Akaashi, with three other people who have most definitely not showered since after the hike that morning and all reek of campfire smoke and sugary marshmallows.  So, in other words, hell.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With all four of them crammed in tight, Kiyoomi can feel Miya’s leg bouncing next to his on the tiny bench they’re sharing.  At least the jets are going strong enough to block out all view of what’s beneath the water.  He wouldn’t want to see what Bokuto’s hands are up to, the way he and Akaashi keep stealing glances at each other.  Disgusting — and not in the manner Miya uses the word.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We should convince Coach to buy one of these for the locker room,” Miya suggests as he leans his head back and shuts his eyes.  Mist from the spray sticks in his dark eyelashes and the corners of his lips curve into a blissful smile, and Kiyoomi’s been staring far too long. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A hot tub in the locker room is a bad idea.  Miya in a hot tub is a bad idea.  A bad reality, in this case.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Genius,” Bokuto agrees, but not with Kiyoomi.  “I’d never leave.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What an upset.”  Akaashi raises a brow.  “I’ve lost to a tub of water.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“‘Kaashiiii,” Bokuto whines as he wraps his arms around Akaashi’s shoulders and pulls him into his lap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kou—” Akaashi slips up, face gone pink.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miya shoots Kiyoomi a not-so-subtle smirk which says, <em>I win.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Doesn’t count</em>, Kiyoomi glares back.  He hadn’t even agreed to this stupid bet anyway.  It’s none of their business what Akaashi calls Bokuto in bed, even if it’s definitely still Bokuto-san.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bokuto is too busy planting wet smooches all over Akaashi’s reddened cheeks to notice their exchange. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re always my number one,” he says with the biggest grin, earning a tiny smile from Akaashi.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi averts his eyes before his lips can even think of doing the same.  There’s nothing cute about kissing in a hot tub.  It’s highly unsanitary.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Get a room.”  Miya sticks out his tongue at them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We already have one.”  Bokuto looks at Miya like he’s the idiot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi just smirks and slides back into his own seat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ugh.”  Miya groans and splashes water their way.  “Yer killin’ me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi pulls his glasses off and is mid-way through blowing away the errant water droplets when Bokuto decides to exact his revenge.  As soon as he raises his arm for the splash, he knocks Akaashi’s glasses right out of his hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oops.”  Bokuto grimaces as they disappear into the bubbling vortex.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bokuto-san, I need those to see.”  There’s no annoyance or concern or even surprise in Akaashi’s voice; it’s like he’s said the same exact words a million times.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Feel around for them, will you guys?”  Bokuto asks them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi’s not feeling around for anything.  Touching any more of this hot tub than necessary is entirely against his constitution.  Someone’s hand does the dirty work for him, feeling around so far in his space it brushes against the edge of his bare knee not once, but twice.  Then a third time.  Kiyoomi clenches his jaw and waits for it to end.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Found them!”  Bokuto’s yell is perfect cover for Kiyoomi’s jolt as the searching hand snakes up the length of his thigh, settling at the edge of his swim shorts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi is asking for his glasses and Bokuto is twirling them around and Kiyoomi isn’t entirely sure what’s going on anymore, brain flooded like he’s been pulled under.  Everything around him is moving in slow motion, dulled and viscous.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He turns his head as fast as he’s able, millimeter by millimeter, until he collides with Miya’s sly fox gaze.  The fingers — Miya’s fingers — trail lazily along the hem of his swim shorts, testing the waters.  He’s asking, persuading, demanding all at once with those biting eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi can’t look at him anymore, especially not when Miya’s fingertips begin to press into the tense muscles of his leg, rising and falling along that edge in gentle waves.  They move with slow intent, and Kiyoomi finds it bearable — maybe even enjoyable — to the point he’s naive to how their touch grows deeper, exploratory.  Miya’s fingers slip underneath the hem, teasing their limited reach, and Kiyoomi bites down hard on the inside of his cheek. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You okay, Omi-kun?” Miya asks with an innocent tilt of his head — an expression Kiyoomi will never be able to see the same way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s far from okay.  He’s out past the edge, struggling to stay afloat.  His only saving grace is the fact the other two aren’t paying any attention, still caught up in Bokuto’s antics.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A buzz sounds.  Time’s up.  The jets power down, and Miya’s hand disappears with the bubbles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi is quick to cross his arms in his lap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, that’s our cue.”  Akaashi pops the still-wet glasses on top of his head and climbs out the hot tub.  “I need to clean these properly anyhow.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Five more minutes?” Bokuto pleads.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Five more kisses if you get out now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll take it!” Bokuto whoops and races back to the cabin, making no effort whatsoever to towel off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Atsumu-san, Sakusa-san—” Akaashi pauses at the back door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Huh?” Miya answers for the both of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t stay in there too long,” he warns.  “It’s bad for your health.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi has never been so embarrassed in his life.  He can barely nod before Akaashi is gone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whaddya think he meant?”  Miya is unaffected.  “Hot tubs are good fer ya.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He swings his legs, kicking up currents that crash over Kiyoomi in underwater waves.  They carry more weight than they feasibly should.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Omi-kun?”  Miya’s speaking again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Huh?”  Kiyoomi finally finds one word.  The rest follow.  “What do you think you’re doing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He doesn’t give Miya a chance to answer. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought I made it clear yesterday I’m not your toy.  You can’t just—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was lying,” Miya cuts him off.  “I wasn’t playin’ with ya.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi should get up and leave like he did the night before.  He should definitely do that — except he can’t.  He’s stuck in this hell until he can exorcise the ghost of Miya’s hand on his leg.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I was playin’, but not like how you took it,” Miya licks his lips and Kiyoomi swears his tongue is taking its sweet time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s rude.  Obscene.  He’ll never be free at this rate.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What I said wasn’t a joke.”  Miya’s hand is back, better than any ghost, thumb dragging a line across Kiyoomi’s flesh.  “I meant every word of it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi’s breath catches in his throat.  “Miya—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Atsumu,” he corrects with another pass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi repeats, caught in his trance, and with this one word his brain is rewired, Miya wiped clean.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu rewards him, hand slipping under the edge of his shorts, dragging them up centimeter after centimeter until the fabric is stretched tight around them both.  It’s wrong.  It’s so, so wrong.  It’s willingly jumping back into churning waters, cliff diving directly above pointed rocks, holding a breath beneath the surface until lungs threaten to explode from within.  Kiyoomi isn’t supposed to be so reckless, but this isn’t supposed to feel so good.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I want to kiss you, Omi-kun.”  Atsumu’s lips are red and wet and Kiyoomi is torn between those and his heavy-lidded eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m desperate to kiss you.”  His fingers dig deep into Kiyoomi’s inner thigh, triggering warning sirens in his brain. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu is deaf to them, deaf to Kiyoomi’s racing heartbeat, deaf to everything except his own want. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Omi-kun, I <em>need</em> to kiss you,” he repeats his mantra, eyes hazing over.  “I need to open you up and taste—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stop.”  Kiyoomi finds a voice that isn’t his own; it’s low and heavy, pinned down by the weight of everything.  “Stop talking.  Please.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu complies and, for the first time, Kiyoomi realizes they’re both panting, breathing so hard together they’re making shallow waves in the water.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll stop if ya want.”  Atsumu’s hand sits glued to Kiyoomi’s upper thigh.  “But I don’t think that’s what you really want.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What does he want?  That’s the problem.  Every muscle, every nerve, every fiber of his physical being is begging for Atsumu to keep going, but his brain screams self-preservation.  Every moment of his existence they’re in conflict — now is no different.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think you want me.”  Atsumu’s on the edge of a drop-off, ready to dive deep, ready to drag Kiyoomi under with him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Kiyoomi’s stubborn brain won’t let him drown.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can’t kiss you.”  The words fall out of his mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu’s brows come together and he sits back, hand peeling off Kiyoomi’s leg, sliding free of his shorts.  In its absence, the warm water is uncomfortably cold.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why not?”  He’s hurt.  It’s in his tone and his posture and his eyes, bared to the world.  And, before long, it forces its way into Kiyoomi’s chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve never” —Kiyoomi shifts uncomfortably— “done that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu’s mouth falls open.  “I thought ya said—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know what I said.”  The remaining heat takes up residence in Kiyoomi’s cheeks.  “I never said I kissed anyone.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A grin spreads across Atsumu’s face, splitting from ear to ear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t make fun of me,” Kiyoomi snaps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not makin’ fun.”  Atsumu’s smile stays, undeterred.  “I’m happy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I get to be the first one to kiss ya,” Atsumu brags.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Didn’t you hear me?”  Kiyoomi grits his teeth.  “I said I can’t kiss you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You wanna, right?”  Atsumu licks his lips again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>At this rate, they’re going to get chapped, and no way would Kiyoomi ever kiss someone with dry, cracked lips.  If Atsumu would apply some lip balm, then maybe—.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi scrunches his brows.  He absolutely does not want Atsumu’s disgustingly sweet, marshmallow mouth anywhere near him.  Not on his neck or his cheek or his forehead, and certainly not on his lips.  If Atsumu would brush his teeth thoroughly and gargle for the recommended sixty seconds, then maybe—. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>No. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi blinks that right out of his head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right?” Atsumu prompts before he can think up any more undesirable scenarios.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s beside the point,” Kiyoomi answers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s exactly the point.”  Atsumu is relentless.  “You can’t kiss me right now, but that doesn’t mean never.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why are you doing this?”  Kiyoomi squeezes his eyes shut.  “Please just stop.  Give up now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Better now than later.  Better before Kiyoomi makes him hurt, makes him disappear.  It’s not too late to stop, to forget about this weekend before things get hard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Underneath the surface, Atsumu’s fingers find him once more.  They wrap their way around his forearm, tugging on the rigid muscles.  Kiyoomi should hate this.  He should push Atsumu off and yell at him to stay away.  But here in the placid, balmy water, he can’t find any sort of resolve.  Kiyoomi blames the hot tub for frying his brain.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I told ya why.”  Atsumu’s thumb brushes his skin, deliberate and slow.  “I like you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He did.  He does.  Kiyoomi grimaces.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And I’m not givin’ up, so stop tellin’ me to stop,” Atsumu argues.  “I already spent so many years likin’ ya, I’m pretty sure yer stuck with me at this point.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You what?”  Kiyoomi can’t believe this.  “Don’t fucking lie.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu cracks a smile and keeps going.  “I liked you ever since I first saw ya, with yer stupid mask and yer fancy curls.”  He gives them a longing glance.  “Puppy love, I guess.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi can’t even hear that L-word right now — one is enough. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t believe you,” he protests.  “You never said anything before.  And now you’re all… all—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“All over you?” Atsumu fills in.  “I can’t help it now that I know I have a chance.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi doesn’t know where he got that idea.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll be honest, I kinda thought you weren’t into it at all.  Not just men, I mean — people, sex, love: all that good shit.  Every time I tried to find out, or even flirt with ya, you shut me down cold.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All the times Atsumu whispered dirty little comments to him, complimented others’ bodies in the most vulgar manner, took a minute too long pulling on his shirt while they were alone in the locker room, even sent Kiyoomi picture messages of himself in low-lighted dressing rooms, asking his opinion on salacious outfits.  All of it sinks in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And then last night you outright told me.  Didn’t even tell me to fuck off or nothin’ when I asked.”  Atsumu shakes his head as if he still can’t believe it.  “Guess I shoulda tried the hot tub tactic sooner.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What the fuck.”  Kiyoomi doesn’t understand how he’s lied to himself for this long.  Or if he’s ready to stop, ready to let Atsumu win.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, don’t sound too excited now.  You’ll hurt my feelings.”  Atsumu frowns.  “You haven’t even said you like me back and I’m over here wearin’ my heart on my sleeve.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi stays quiet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You do like me, right?”  Atsumu’s brows come up, eyes pleading.  “There’s no way I’ve been readin’ all the signs wrong.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Signs?  What signs?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yer always lookin’ out for me, tellin’ me to wear warmer clothes and stop drinking so much.  And you do little things like waitin’ for me when we’re hiking and wipin’ marshmallow off my face.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re delusional.”  Kiyoomi doesn’t do that because he likes Atsumu.  He does that because... because—.  His brain scrambles for a good explanation.  “Do you understand what a friend is?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t you try to friendzone me, ya coward!”  Atsumu abandons his arm to jam a finger at his chest.  “Don’t think I don’t notice you checkin’ me out all the time!  And you were more than willin’ to watch me eat that marshmallow, ya perv.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi opens his mouth, then snaps it shut.  He has no rebuttal.  Not a valid one, at least.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Admit it.  You like me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This hot tub is frying your brain.”  Kiyoomi argues.  “We should get out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not leavin’ ‘til ya answer me.”  Atsumu crosses his arms in defiance.  “I’ll die in here if I have to.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi rises.  “Then perish.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are ya serious?”  Atsumu mimics someone pulling their hair out.  “You want me to suffer — that’s it.  Yer some kinda sadist, are ya?”  He points an accusatory finger.  “Well, ya know what?  I” —he pauses, then bites his lip— “I could be into that.  I’d be willing to try it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Will you shut up?”  Kiyoomi is poised to climb out when it hits him — the first snowflake.  It lands neatly on his cheek, melted by the time he reaches for it, but it’s not alone.  The dark sky is black no more, turned fuzzy and grey with incoming snowfall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I mean it.  And think, if ya tied me up all fancy-like I’d have to keep my hands to myself, huh?  I bet that’s why yer into—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Look.”  Kiyoomi falls back down with a splash.  “It’s snowing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t change the subject!”  Atsumu throws his hands up, knocking a flock of snowflakes right out of the sky.  “Oh—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s coming down now, a flurry of white melting clear where it meets the hot tub steam.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Omi-kun!  It’s snowing!”  Atsumu’s face lights up.  “It’s really snowing!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His laugh is uninhibited, unadulterated, untamed.  It’s pure joy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Atsumu sticks his tongue out to catch some snowflakes, Kiyoomi does the same.  They taste of the humid hot tub air: a little smoky, a little sweet, a little chlorinated, and Kiyoomi wonders if Atsumu tastes it too, if Atsumu tastes like it too.  The thought makes him dizzy.  It has him spinning out of control.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I need to get out,” he admits to himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Same.  I’m overheatin’.”  Atsumu hoists himself out of the hot tub, water running down his chest in rivulets.  The steam left behind rolls off him in waves, melting any snowflakes that dare get too close.  Kiyoomi can sympathize.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Comin’?” Atsumu asks, holding out a towel his way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi’s head is spinning and his legs feel like jello, but he makes it out to accept the offering.  He wipes himself down, removing the protection of the dulling water, exposing himself to the light-handed touch of each and every snowflake.  They call him back, clear his head, and return the strength to his legs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think I know what Akaashi meant now.”  Atsumu puts his hands on his lower back and looks up at the sky, blinking into the flurry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That hot tub was makin’ me crazy.”  He chuckles.  “No way in hell would I ever let you tie me up, ya sicko.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fucking hell.”  Kiyoomi shakes his head and laughs, hard.  “What is wrong with you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A lot, but you already know that.”  Atsumu shoots him a perfect grin and pushes his snow-damp hair off his forehead.  “That’s why ya like me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi exhales, defeated with one look.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I suppose so,” he says as he turns on his heel and heads for the cabin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You—” Atsumu yells after him.  “You said it!  You agreed!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good night, Atsumu.”  Kiyoomi shuts the door behind him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi would like to say he slept soundly, without vivid mental montages of marshmallow eating and snowflakes sticking on tongues and skin.  In fact, he would like to say he slept at all.  Does it still qualify as a daydream if it comes in the dark, filling that fuzzy space between mental racket and the quiet nothing?  Whatever it was, it was no nightmare.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s five in the morning again and, even though the sun has yet to rise, the world feels new.  Kiyoomi’s coat is soft and its pockets are safe and warm; his thick socks, too, tugged over joggers and tucked tight into boots.  He’s ready for the day, the cold, anything.  He’s prepared.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good morning, Aka—” Kiyoomi’s greeting falls short.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi isn’t on the bench this morning — it’s Atsumu, bundled up in his big yellow coat.  He’s layered sport leggings under his shorts this time, and there’s a borrowed throw from the cabin couch sliding off his lap, forgotten.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good mornin’, Omi-kun.”  His smile is soft, muted like the snow-covered landscape.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi eyes the rocking chair, coated in a layer of ice, then the empty end of the bench.  Bench, it is.  He feels around in his pocket for his disinfectant spray before remembering he left it on his bedside table.  Maybe he’s not as prepared as he thought.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu is watching patiently.  “Sleep well?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not at all.”  Kiyoomi swipes at the wood with his jacket sleeve, as if that will make it clean.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu leans his head back, looking up at him with drooping eyes.  “Me neither.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I kept thinkin’ ‘bout ya,” he adds.  “About how you looked with snow in yer curls and that smile on yer face.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi wasn’t prepared for this either.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Huh.”  He sits down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu sticks out his bottom lip.  “I don’t wanna leave today.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Time has no regard for Atsumu’s wants.  It keeps moving past them, around them, through them, and before the snow can even consider melting, they’ll be on their way back to civilization.  Back away from hot tubbing and hiking and campfires, back to their own apartments, back to routines and responsibilities.  And back to the way things were, where Atsumu is Miya and Kiyoomi is alone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We have to.”  Kiyoomi clenches his fists in his pockets, holding tightly to the truth he can’t admit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This weekend flew by at an impossible speed, the kind that leaves him dizzy and breathless and wanting for more.  But it isn’t over yet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu turns to him suddenly, blanket falling to the ice-damp wooden slats of the porch.  “Let’s buy our own cabin someday.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“One with a fire pit and a hot tub, near some hikin’ trails.”  Atsumu’s eyes sink into his, settling in like they belong.  “Then when we’re old ‘n grey, we can retire there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi huffs, but his heart isn’t in it — it’s too busy throbbing in his chest.  “You make it sound so easy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cabins don’t cost that much, Omi-Omi.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I meant growing old” —Kiyoomi swallows— “together.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh.”  Atsumu shuffles closer until his leg is less than a centimeter from Kiyoomi’s.  “That’s the easiest part.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t say things like that.”  Kiyoomi snatches the throw from the ground and gives it a good shake before holding it out to Atsumu.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Things like what?” Atsumu spreads it across his lap, and Kiyoomi’s too.  “The truth?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto yells as he stumbles out the door, slipping and sliding on the icy porch.  “Good morning world!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi’s train of thought leaves him behind at the station.  He nods to Bokuto, at a loss for words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mornin’ Bokkun,” Atsumu greets him.  “Why the hell are you up?  I didn’t know ya were capable of risin’ this early.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Akaashi hates putting the tire chains on.”  He twirls Akaashi’s key ring around his finger, the little MSBY Bokuto charm holding on for dear life.  “I’m gonna do it before he’s up to surprise him!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi’s nose twitches as he stamps down a smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Geez, would ya stop bein’ all cute and coupley for one moment?”  Atsumu is grinning despite his complaining, clearly enjoying his infection.  “It’s too damn early for that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bokuto pauses at the end of the porch and beams at the both of them.  “Doesn’t look like too early to me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then he’s off, bounding down the steps to the driveway, leaving Atsumu and Kiyoomi to give each other a look.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s not wrong,” Kiyoomi admits, gesturing to their shared blanket.  “You were saying some pretty sappy shit.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yer so mean.”  Atsumu crosses his arms and pouts.  “I’m gonna take it all back.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wha—” Atsumu cries.  “You don’t mean that!  Take that back!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re the one that said you were going to take it back.”  Kiyoomi shrugs.  “You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you don’t shut up, I’m gonna kiss you,” Atsumu threatens.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi pauses.  “You wouldn’t dare.  Besides, I already told you—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”  Atsumu waves the words out of the air.  “If I remember correctly, ya said you can’t kiss me, not that I can’t kiss you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Same thing.”  Kiyoomi shifts away from Atsumu as far as the tiny throw will allow.  “Don’t you dare come near me.  Have you even brushed your teeth?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, calm down, will ya?”  Atsumu sighs and leans back against the bench.  “I’m not gonna do anything, even though I did brush ‘em real good just in case.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi’s shoulders fall in relief.  Mostly.  There might be a hint of disappointment, too, a tiny, tiny—.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Argh!”  Bokuto’s frustrated yell interrupts his internal debate, voice loud enough to wake the dead.  “Why is this so hard?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll be surprised if Akaashi isn’t awake after that.”  Kiyoomi leans forward to get a better look at Bokuto jumping up and down, shaking out his hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu blinks slowly and gives a heavy exhale.  “I’d better go help him before he breaks the car.  Or himself.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi nods and off Atsumu goes, taking his body heat with him.  The blanket is enough to keep Kiyoomi from shivering for now, but he’s nowhere near as comfortable as before.  Comfortable.  What a weird word to associate with Atsumu, with anyone.  Despite their constant quarreling and Atsumu’s inability to shut up, Kiyoomi has to admit some things are easier with him.  Having someone to carry his forgotten hand sanitizer, to interrupt when his brain starts spiraling, to share a blanket with when the world is frozen over.  Being with Atsumu can be easier than being alone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe this is what Atsumu meant about growing old together.  But it doesn’t sit right with Kiyoomi.  Easier doesn’t mean better.  Easy is quick to fall into, coaxing with its sweet smiles and warm hands.  It’s only natural to want it, to be manipulated by the simplicity of it all.  But easy fades away at the first sign of trouble.  Easy doesn’t last.  It can’t; not with someone like Kiyoomi. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He pulls the blanket tightly around himself, searching for any leftover warmth.  There is none.  He sinks into his seat, shivering with icy realization.  When easy is gone, it leaves colder than it came.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu comes stomping up the stairs, unaware he’s trampling Kiyoomi’s thoughts, too busy examining his tire grease-stained hands. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Never again,” he mutters.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now I know why Akaashi hates those things,” Bokuto whines right behind him, black smudges all over his face.  “Don’t tell him you helped me!  I want to be the one to make his morning.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I won’t tell.”  Atsumu stops, shoots Kiyoomi a mischievous grin, and pops his hand on his hip.  “If—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If?” Bokuto tilts his head and makes his curious bird expression.  “If what?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If ya cook breakfast.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Aw, but it’s your turn, Tsum Tsum.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“True.”  Atsumu raises a finger.  “But think how happy Akaashi will be if you put the tire chains on all by yerself <em>and</em> cooked him breakfast in bed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bokuto’s jaw drops.  “You’re a genius!” he hoots.  “A total love guru.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi can only stare.  The way Bokuto’s brain works — or doesn’t — is an enigma.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yer welcome.”  Atsumu gives a little bow, but Bokuto has already dashed inside.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ya hear that, Omi-kun?”  Atsumu returns to his spot on the bench.  “A total love guru.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“More like a master of manipulation.”  Kiyoomi narrows his eyes.  “Aren’t you going to wash your hands?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu raises a brow.  “Why?  So you can hold ‘em?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nevermind.”  Kiyoomi huffs, irritation building.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu tsks at him and digs an alcohol wipe from his pocket.  Then another.  And another.  He uses all three, scrubbing until his fingers are pink.  Then, he pulls out a little bottle of hand sanitizer — not Kiyoomi’s this time — and squirts a generous amount on his palms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Clean enough?” he asks, rubbing his fingers back and forth as they dry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why do you have all those?”  Kiyoomi frowns.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I told ya.  I brought ‘em for you.”  Atsumu examines the underside of his nails.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, but we’re not hiking today.  And that’s not my hand sanitizer.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s called bein’ prepared, ya know?  That little thing yer always houndin’ me about?”  Atsumu frowns at him.  “Why do I feel like yer tryna pick a fight with me again?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Is he?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is this because I said I was gonna kiss you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu’s asking too many questions and none of them are answering what Kiyoomi wants to know.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you think I’m easy or something?” Kiyoomi blurts out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?” Atsumu yelps, head pulling back.  “Because of the whole Ushijima thing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Huh?”  Kiyoomi doesn’t understand what Wakatoshi has to do with this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I mean, it just makes me more determined to target him next time we play ‘em, if we’re bein’ honest.  Not sayin’ I’m gonna do it, but not sayin’ I’m not either,” Atsumu rambles on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What are you talking about?”  Kiyoomi’s brows scrunch together.  “I’m asking what you meant earlier when you said it was the easiest part.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh.”  Atsumu rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.  “About the cabin.  Gotchya.  Ya had me confused there fer a minute.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Answer me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Geez, Omi-kun.  Are you stressin’ out again?”  Atsumu shakes his head at him, chiding.  “For the record, yer the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met.  Yer always gettin’ all up in arms, ready to jump me over the slightest thing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi glares at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See?  Yer givin’ me that death glare right now!”  Atsumu throws his hands up in the air.  “Yer so damn prickly.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, you can—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let me finish, please,” Atsumu cuts him off.  “Where was I?  Ah, so, to answer ya: no, I don’t think yer easy.  I think yer incredibly difficult.  But ya know what?  I love you in spite of it, maybe even because of it, okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And don’t go gettin’ mad at me fer using the L-word!  I see ya gettin’ ready to tell me off.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi slams his mouth shut, pressing his lips into a straight line.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I love you,” Atsumu repeats, like saying it twice will convince both of them.  “It’s easy for me to love you.  I don’t even have to try; I just do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi swallows.  And with it goes all his baseless debate.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And that’s why I said growin’ old together would be easy, because no matter how much of a pain in the ass ya are, I’ll just keep lovin’ you anyway.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The last word dissipates into the icy air, no longer visible, but Kiyoomi can still feel it.  He can still feel all of them, filling him up, warming him from the inside out.  The snow around him is still ice cold, but the sun is rising and Atsumu’s smile —the one he reserves for Kiyoomi— is soft and earnest. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi takes a deep breath and leans in closer and closer until he meets Atsumu’s warm lips, until they’re smiling together and moving together and laughing together.  He does taste sweet, but not like marshmallow.  He tastes like a perfect moment in time, a pure snowflake on Kiyoomi’s tongue.  Atsumu pulls him in, throw blanket discarded once more, and when Kiyoomi stops to catch his breath, Atsumu continues on, pressing warm kisses to his forehead and his cheek, all the way down to the crook of his neck before pulling back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They stay like this, Kiyoomi halfway in Atsumu’s lap, both panting like they’re overheating in the hot tub again.  Then, Atsumu licks his lips slowly and deliberately, just the way Kiyoomi likes it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How was yer first kiss?” he asks with an all-too-familiar tilt of his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi can’t help but smile.  “Easy.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As easy as being in love with Atsumu, being loved by Atsumu.  Easy in a way that lasts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>——</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The weekend can’t last.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’re on the road already, leaving the hot tubbing and hiking and marshmallow roasting behind with the cabin.  Bokuto and Akaashi carry on hushed conversation in the front, unable to keep their hands off each other for more than a minute, thanks to some “chains of the tire variety,” as Atsumu put it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi is still stuck in the backseat with him, but this time, Atsumu’s duffel bag is pressed against the door and Atsumu’s leg is pressed against his.  The heat of it seeps all the way through the layers of their clothing: his thick joggers and Atsumu’s stupid fucking shorts, sport leggings long gone after the mishap at breakfast. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before the trip, when Atsumu had sent Kiyoomi one of his dressing room snaps of them, posing with his side to the mirror and the hem of his shirt in his teeth, Kiyoomi told him to buy the fire-resistant leggings instead.  But Atsumu just had to have the ones which had him “feelin’ himself,” as he put it.  Now, unlike the picture saved deep in the camera roll of Kiyoomi’s phone, the leggings are no more.  Maybe Atsumu will listen to him when they have their own cabin someday. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kiyoomi doubts it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For now, they’re leaving, going back to their own apartments, back to routines and responsibilities.  But there’s no chance of Atsumu going back to Miya, nor Kiyoomi going back to being alone — if he ever truly was.  Whatever Bokuto and Akaashi have, they’ve caught it; Kiyoomi’s downright ill with it.  Disgusting — exactly how Atsumu uses the word.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Some things never change, like how Atsumu keeps pestering him for attention, nudging him each time his heavy eyelids threaten sleep.  Other things do, like how Kiyoomi drops his head to rest on Atsumu’s shoulder, nose to his neck.  He breathes Atsumu in slowly and surely, falling into a comfortable, easy sleep — the kind that lasts through each and every kiss Atsumu presses to his skin.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Bonus Scene</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sometimes ya just cant help yerself.  im as weak fer feral Bokuto as i am fer hot tub Omi.  enjoy the mess!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>While Kiyoomi and Atsumu were busy packing their things (and definitely not going for a final dip in the hot tub)...</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Please be careful with my glasses, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi requests as he’s led blindly down the icy steps.  He prefers them on his face at all times, in sight and well out of Bokuto’s hands.  He has insurance — he’d be a fool not to — but there’s only so many replacements he’s allowed in a year.  Four is pushing it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They’re safe and sound right here,” Bokuto insists, and Akaashi can hear the little creak of their hinges as Bokuto pats his pocket.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Curse his divine strength.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No peeking,” Bokuto reminds like he doesn’t have one hand pressed over Akaashi’s eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi doesn’t have to look to know where they’re going (driveway, judging by the number of steps and direction).  He’s more concerned with calculating the various whys.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can’t wait to surprise you!” Bokuto exclaims right in his ear and Akaashi’s eye twitches involuntarily. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Waking up to the fire alarm screeching and a cabin full of bacon grease smoke was surprise enough (not to mention the impending extra cleaning fee).  Situations like these are precisely why he’s forced himself to become an early riser, despite his body’s best interests.  The ungodly amount of coffee he consumes pays dividends.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On the thirteenth step down the snowy sidewalk, Akaashi slips on a patch of ice and falls easily back into Bokuto’s chest, solid arms tucking him in tight.  He’s so large and warm and Akaashi could stay there all day, take up residence and never leave.  Bokuto would let him, too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t worry, I gotchya.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He always does.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tada!”  Bokuto’s hand leaves Akaashi’s eyes to reveal... his own car.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you see it?”  Bokuto is practically vibrating, he’s so excited.  “Tell me when you see it!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi squints.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, I guess you need these, huh?”  Bokuto places Akaashi’s glasses right on his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi pushes them up his nose and looks again, but it’s still his same old car with the scratch along the side from the one and only time he drank too much and decided to let Bokuto drive instead of calling a ride.  There’s also the impressively large dent on the front bumper from when Bokuto jumped in front of him while he was pulling into the car park, returning from a week-long conference.  The insurance company still won’t believe he didn’t hit an animal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi continues to sweep the car for anything out of the ordinary, from the snow-covered roof rack down to the chain-layered rear tires.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You put the tire chains on.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh no.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bokuto pulls him close and nuzzles his temple.  “I did it this morning before you woke up.  Before breakfast and all the smoke and stuff,” he says sheepishly.  “I know you hate putting them on.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi bites his lip and makes a quick mental edit:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Bokuto-san’s weakness #83: If he touches <strike>the body of</strike> any part of Akaashi’s car, it will have to be fixed.</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>The list sure has grown since they moved in together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi turns around and pulls Bokuto in for a breath-stealing kiss.  He’s so simply perfect and Akaashi wants nothing more than to take him back to bed and never leave.  Bokuto would let him, too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whoah!” Bokuto gasps as they break like he does every single time, and every single time the sound does something dangerous to Akaashi’s insides.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he pants into Bokuto’s ear.  “You’re the best.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re getting me all fired up.”  His golden eyes glint and his brows rise toward the sky, ready to take flight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Perfect.  Weakness number one is about to pay dividends.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Would you do me a favor with all your energy?” Akaashi traces his finger along the razor-sharp edge of Bokuto’s jaw.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Anything,” he growls, absolutely feral.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Will you move the chains to the front tires?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The what?” Bokuto squawks, eyes gone wide.  “We put them on the wrong ones?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>We?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The corners of Bokuto’s mouth drag down.  “Tsum Tsum said he knew what he was doing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ah. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi holds back his comment about Atsumu never knowing what he’s doing.  Akaashi would know — he had to explain to Atsumu three times that purposefully getting lost on a hike was a bad (and dangerous) idea, and yet look what happened.  He’s guessing it turned out alright though, judging by how he stumbled upon Sakusa in Atsumu’s lap when he threw open the front door to air the smoke.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There truly is someone for everyone.  And Akaashi’s someone now owes him a back massage for losing their bet (team hot tub kiss was a preposterous choice).</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Speaking of kissing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I bet you can do it even better this time,” Akaashi kisses Bokuto’s sad mouth until it’s back in a smile (today: 2 kisses, running average: 3.4). </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And” —Akaashi gives him one more for good measure— “I’d really like to watch you do it.  You know how I like to watch you, Bokuto-san.  Especially when you’re on your hands and knees.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh ho!”  Bokuto pulls off his coat and throws it over Akaashi’s shoulders, suddenly immune to the cold.  “Watch away!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With that, he drops to the ground so fast and so hard, he cracks a sheet of ice.  Like Akaashi, it never stood a chance. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi smiles to himself, threads his arms through the oversized jacket sleeves, and makes another mental edit: </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strike>Bokuto-san’s weakness #1: Akaashi</strike>
  </em>
  <strike></strike>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Akaashi’s weakness #1: Bokuto-san</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
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